Later that Night
by heavensweetheart
Summary: "Because we are friends now?" "Because we are more than that." Baz picks up a poker and jabs at the fire. "One kiss, and you think the world is upside down." "Two kisses," I say. And I take him by the back of his neck. – To be continued...


**BAZ**

For the second (not consecutive) time this night, Snow's mouth catches me by surprise.

I think I might be even more startled this time, I truly wasn't expecting him to kiss me again – not so soon at least.

He has one hand in the back of my neck and the other one holding my jaw carefully, making sure I won't turn away from him. (I won't.) (Ever.)

At first, he was just pressing his lips against mine. Hardly. Possessively. But now, his tongue is inside my mouth. All inside my mouth. He is _roving_ my mouth. Slowly; he is everywhere inside it. Licking. Feeling. Tasting.

I feel his tongue rousing mine. I feel his long fingers holding my face.

 _Simon Snow is kissing me slowly._

 _Crowley!_

 **SIMON**

Baz is so soft.

His skin is soft, his hair is soft, his mouth is soft. Everything is soft.

Except for his jawline. It feels sharp and strong against my hand. I hold his chin a little higher as I keep deepening my tongue inside his mouth. (He tastes good.) I wonder how I never noticed these things about him.

Well, I guess I did notice the part about _"sharp"_.

And the part about "strong", too.

Baz had _always_ been sharp and strong, it was what made him so annoying. So _unreachable_.

Ever since we met, Baz had seem as if he was above me in so much levels.

I knew he believed he was above me, but he literally was. Smarter, better looking, much wealthier. Even more than that, he was just so confident and perfectly "in control". All while looking so damn posh and naturally graceful. (He had _always_ been graceful, too.) (I remember seeing him walking around Watford through the years.) His movements were always so smooth, even when he was playing football. I usually watched him during the matches. Seeing him running and taking the ball for himself while I wondered how on earth he could move his legs so swiftly.

In resume, he was the exact opposite to me in all senses.

 _He was out of my league since the very beginning._

But now, he's putting his hands on my back as I kiss him.

He is here now, with me.

And he is vulnerable, I can see him vulnerable. And he is letting me into it. I jam my face into his as I push my tongue up to his throat. He gasps. He actually gasps. Loudly. I can't help but smile and giggle a bit.

"What?" he asks as he recovers his breath. His cheeks are all reddish, I can't tell if it is for the blood of the doe he just sucked or if he is actually blushing.

"Nothing", I say, grinning. "It's just… what was it that you were saying about not wanting to snog your halfwit roommate?"

"Shut up, Snow", it's his only answer before he puts his hand in the back of my head and pushes me in for another kiss.

 **BAZ**

This one hell of a kisser imbecile! I swear that if I wasn't enjoying this so bloody much then I would curse his mouth shut.

But then that would mean he wouldn't kiss me anymore… So, no.

I curl my fingers in his hair as he sucks on my bottom lip and then lowers his hands for caressing my neck. He opens the first button of my shirt. His hands are hot, as if he had fever. I feel his burning fingers on my skin, under a tiny piece of my clothes. I make a noise that I'm afraid sounds pretty much like a moan.

I never imagined kissing him would be like this.

All the times I imagined it in the past (which, I admit, were _a few_ ) I never pictured many of the little things I'm feeling now. Like the muscles of his broad, tense shoulders against my hand. Like how his temperature only keeps increasing as we continue.

His pulse's beating faster, too. I can feel it.

 _Feel him_.

I pull him closer to me, (the closest that we have ever being); I _need_ to feel him. I need to know that this is real, that he is here. In my house. In my bedroom. In my arms.

And I'm in his.

I need to know that, for once in our life, there's nothing interposing between Simon Snow and me.

 **SIMON**

I'm having vivid flashbacks of Baz's lips through the years. I remember all the times I stared at them.

And I mean that I really _stared_ at them.

Namely the infinite times he curled his lips in that smirk of his. (I can recall the corner of his lips turning upwards from the straight line that was his mouth.) (The image is practically soldered to my brain.)

I'd found myself thinking about that lip curl plenty of times in the past. Even when I was in the Normal World, whenever I did something stupid, my mind slipped almost immediately to what would Baz do or say.

Sometimes I wouldn't even need to do anything stupid, sometimes I would just let my mind wander and it'll travel back to the World of Mages. To _Baz_. Baz mocking me, Baz casting spells, Baz standing in front of me with his irritating smirk on his face.

All with his shiny and thin lips.

I never imagined his lips would feel like this, though. So fluent underneath mine.

He is taking the lead of the kiss now, and he is a much fiercer kisser than I am. He is kissing me as if my mouth was water and he was dying of dryness. Anxiously, hungrily. Yet he still manages to make it sweet and caring.

My heart is beating faster, Baz is being sweet and caring to me.

And I like it.

 _I like it so much._

 **BAZ**

Snow's losing his self-restraint in here. I lost mine a while ago.

If not completely, the most of it.

I start to question if our lips will maul for how hard we are kissing.

Then, he tears open the jacket of my suit and takes it off of me, and I decide that I don't fucking care about our lips mauling or not.

I take his face in both of my hands and lick his bottom lip; it is red and inflamed and glossy. I bite and suck on to it.

Suddenly I hear a metallic jingle, and Snow is looking for something under the neck of his shirt. After a second, he holds his cross in his hand.

His cross.

I'd almost completely forgot about it. I could feel its static inside of my mouth, but I was so distracted by the kissing that I didn't do anything about it.

Snow's doing something about it now. He's ripping it off his neck and throwing it away before locking lips with me again.

 _Snow just threw away his cross._

His. _Cross_.

His anti-vampire rabbit-foot. A gift from Dr. Wellbelove, his adored Agatha's father. (He didn't really tell me who had gave it to him, I just overheard him and Agatha herself commenting about it in the school's hallway.)

Does this mean he is over her? For me?

I don't have time to think much about it, he's doing the thing with the tongue again and it is assassinating my concentration. He grabs my biceps as he deepens it in my mouth. I gasp. (Again.) Loudly. (Again.) (Why can't I stop gasping?) (It's embarrassing!)

Snow giggles.

"You're making such loud noises", he says, still smiling. He looks happier than his usual self. "Did you want to kiss me _that_ badly?"

" _You_ kissed _me_ , Snow", I argue, "How many times do I have to tell you?"

He rolls his eyes.

"Okay. Did you want _me_ to kiss _you_ that badly? Because, it looks like you have wanted this for a long time".

I'm about to deny it, to say that I haven't been wanting this at all. (Liar.) But, does it really makes sense to deny it? _Now?_

"So what if I have?", I say instead.

"Really?", his face appears to brighten up, "Tell me how long."

"Long enough to expect something far more impressing."

He looks at me for a second. Right after, he raises an eyebrow and smirks.

"Impressing, huh?"

Before I can do any move, Snow puts his hands on my shoulders and pushes me backwards. Next thing I know, I'm lying on my back on the floor, looking up to Snow's face on top of me. His hands are one on either side of my head and his knees on either side of my legs, at my hip's height.

"Are you impressed now?"

I can't answer.

I can't hear.

I can't _breathe_.

 _Simon Snow is on top of me_.

Am I sure this isn't one of my fifth year whet dreams?

For a minute, I just lay there.

Embarrassing myself looking at him wide-eyed, my mouth hanging open, and blushing more than I've ever had in my life. ( _Thanks_ , doe blood!) I can picture how ridiculous I must look because Snow can't stop grinning.

He can't stop looking at my lips either.

The fire next to us is lightning up his face in the rather dark room. I can see his eyes clearly, two sparkling lakes of blue. The shade doesn't even changes with the light.

 _Blue eyes._

His skin does look different, though. More golden. Actual gold. And his curls seem like solid bronze. He kind of resembles a gold statue.

 _Bronze curls_.

I glance down at his body – just to make sure this is happening. I get to see that his jumper and shirt are a little loose. Hanging at his waist, showing just a line of golden skin. ( _Fuck self-restraint!_ )

 _The fact that Simon Snow is the most powerful magician alive._

I take his face in both of my hands again and kiss him. Hard. Possibly even harder than what we were kissing until now. _His mouth is hotter, his lips are beating_. I feel the rhythm of his pulse in his mouth. It's beautiful. Like a song.

 _That nothing can hurt him._

I suck on his bottom lip again and now _he's_ the one that gasps. I lower my hands down to his chest. Then, to his stomach. Then, to under his shirt. _His skin is burning_. Just like the fire next to us. Just like Simon himself.

 _The fact that Simon Snow is alive_.

I let my hands wander through his stomach, and up and down through his back. I feel him shiver when I draw his spine with the tip of my fingers.

Simon Snow is here.

Simon Snow is with me.

Simon Snow is kissing me.

 _And I'm hopelessly in love with him._

 **SIMON**

I should make a new list. One more to the others I already have.

 **Things I like about Baz:**

 **No. 1 – Baz's lips**

This might seem like a pretty obvious call but I'm just being real.

 **No. 2 – Baz's hair**

I have always liked it. Even when we were kids, and especially when it's loose and wavy and it curls at the ends. It looks so soft and with this permanent luster and I had always asked myself how it would be to pass my fingers through it.

I never allowed myself to think much about it, though.

 **No. 3 – Baz's eyes**

This should probably be in the first place – I have also always liked them since we were kids.

I like the color of them. Deep-water grey. When they're shinning, they appear as if they were _black pearls_. With his pupils in the middle.

They looked like black pearls just moments ago.

When I pinned him to the floor and he looked up to me.

I'll never forget the sight of him looking at me like that. Where his eyes had been made of pain earlier in the forest, at that moment they were made of joy. And hope. And something else, something more… glittering.

I don't think anyone has ever looked at me like that. Not Penny, nor The Mage.

Not even Agatha.

 **No. 4 – Baz's hands**

Specifically, Baz's hands on my skin.

I'm liking him touching me. I like him touching me in this way.

He had rarely ever touched me in the past, (unless it was for throwing me a punch or pushing me down the stairs), but his tact had always felt kind of nice.

It doesn't feel so ruthless as his usual self, and I like how his fingertips feel like. They are round and curvy, Penny once told me that was a common thing in people with talent for music.

" _Baz is talented for a lot of things"_ , I think.

 **No. 5 – Overall Baz**

Do I like overall Baz?

Well, I like _looking_ at him.

Do I?

I mean, for what other reason would I stare at him so much?

I told myself it was for keeping an eye on him in case he was planning my fall, but I _enjoyed_ keeping an eye on him. He is not difficult to look at. On the contrary, it is nice to look at Baz.

Maybe that's why I had so much trouble with _not_ staring at him. (There were times when I was staring, and he caught me staring, but I didn't look away, because I was too busy _still_ staring.)

And I also like many other things about him that I can't really see. Like his voice (it is deep and fairly hoarse.) His laugh (he normally just laughed when he was mocking at me so I couldn't properly enjoy it, but it _is_ a pleasant laugh.) His breath (I've gotten used to it over the years; actually, it has become one of the most familiar things to me.)

Now, the obvious question here is, if I liked so much about Baz, then why did I hate him so much? _– Used_ to hate him, I guess. The answer is because _he_ hated _me_.

 _Did_ he?

I don't know why but, when we are kissing, I can't feel Baz hating me.

I don't even feel a rational amount of distaste from his part.

And, besides, you don't kiss someone you hate.

At least not like he's kissing me now.

Does this mean he doesn't hate me? That he might actually feel something for me apart from hate?

I wonder, what would it have been like if we haven't hated each other since the very beginning? Would we have ended up like this? Me, shivering at the touch of Baz's hands on my bare skin; him, practically moaning whenever I put my tongue in his mouth.

I don't know.

And, being honest, I don't care.

I feel Baz's hands moving from my back to my stomach and vice versa.

The past is the past, there's nothing to do about it; so I don't think about it. I only think – I only _care_ about here and now.

Here and now with Baz.

He isn't dead now, he is alive. And we are together. And he isn't hurting anyone, and no one is hurting him. I smile against his lips and he smiles back.

 _Baz._

" _Everything is fine now_ ", I think; and I know how rare it is for me to think those words. But, for the moment, everything _is_ fine. As long Baz and I are together.


End file.
